Tag: writer

You Can Lead a Horse to Wine, but You Can’t Make Him Write a Novel.

Lead a Horse to WaterI’ve been thinking about motivation and the thought occurred to me that perhaps if I only allowed myself wine *when I was writing* – I’d get this next book knocked out PDQ. (That means “pretty damn quick,” for you laymen out there.) But, then again, that would require discipline. And self-control. And saying no to wine. Plus, I have about another 40,000 words to go. And that might be a lot of wine.

On a somewhat unrelated note, I googled “wine” and “horses” (don’t act like you’ve never done that) and I got that dandy picture above. But I also found this:

Horse bottle holderWhich seems kind of inappropriate. But, I actually have this bottle holder except that mine is a moose. Now, I’m not sure if it is the horse that makes it look pornographic, or if I’ve been in denial about the fact that my moose appears to be getting raped by a wine bottle, too. And maybe Steve wasn’t being a pervert when he told me what it looked like my moose was up to.

I linked the picture to a store where you can buy your very own so that if you felt like the only thing missing from your life was a horse deep-throating a bottle of wine – your life can now be complete.

My Writer’s Streak.

Writer's Streak

Apparently, when you are rep’d by Michelle Wolfson of Wolfson Literary Agency, you become a member of the Wolf Pack. And, once my announcement came out, the other members of the Wolf Pack informed me of a Wolf Pack tradition. They told me Michelle’s authors put a streak of color in their hair when Michelle gets us a book deal. Shenanigans, right? Have no fear. I insisted on photographic evidence. Which was happily provided.

And since I have never been one to tempt fate – or miss an opportunity to do something ridiculous with a totally valid excuse – or, frankly, resist peer pressure when I don’t feel like it – here is my new writer’s streak.

And since, as Linda Grimes put it, some judges are lacking in a sense of whimsy, I strategically placed it so that it could be overlooked in court. Unless I meet a super whimsical judge, in which case, game on.

Writer's Streak 2

It’s Official! My Agent Just Accepted a Two-Book Deal From Tor/Forge Publishing!

Man, this writing thing is a long and winding road. And this is the moment you dream of but doubt will ever actually happen…the book deal.

I was lucky enough to gain representation from the amazing Michelle Wolfson of Wolfson Literary and now we officially have a book deal! We just signed a deal with Tor Publishing for the first two books of my trilogy, The Contract Killers. (Which, despite the title, is actually a funny romance with a twist.)

So this wanna-be published author just became a gonna-be published author and dreams really do come true if you stick with it long enough and never give up.

Damn it, Mom. You missed it by four months. And you believed this moment would happen more than anyone. I ❤ you always.

How I Lost My Street Cred.

Just kidding. I never had any. I am 100% suburban white bread who is urban-impaired. This was a gift from one of my best friends a few years ago:

Slang Flashcards

Which was funny, yes. Useful, no. Cause I know the words, but they sound ridiculous coming out of my mouth. But I do it anyway because it’s entertaining to my black, Mexican, middle-eastern and *native American friends who laugh **with me, not at me, when I say anything remotely “street.” And, yes, I felt ridiculous just saying “street.” I’ve got no game, I’m lacking in mad skills, and I straight fail on playin’ cool.

I can, however, quote The Family Guy with the best of them. That earns me no street cred, but my nerds feel what I’m puttin’ down. ***Word to your motha.

 

* Whatever. She’s blonde-haired and blue-eyed and thinks that her 25% Native American gives her more street cred than me. Dream on, Cupcake.

** I suspect at times they keep me around for comic relief…to laugh *with* me. My ass.

*** Apparently since “word” came about in the ’80’s and I am an 80’s child, I am allowed to use that one without repercussions.

iPod Confessional.

The top 5 most embarrassing things on my iPod. Because when I can’t think of anything clever to write, embarrassing usually does the trick.

5. The theme song from “The Greatest American Hero.” And, believe it or not, now you’re singing it in your head. You’re welcome.

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4. The Hannah Montana soundtrack. Yes, originally I had little girls and had a valid excuse for having it on my iPod…but that doesn’t really explain why it’s still on there. When my girls are 15 and 20. And would rather clean the refrigerator than listen to it.

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3. Call Me Maybe by Carly Rae Jepsen. Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m the only one who ever thought that song was catchy. Just keep telling yourself that.

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2. Both Sides Now by Judy Collins. Because I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now, and I really don’t know clouds at all.

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1. FIVE songs from that one musical episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer when Joss Whedon was apparently high and thought having the cast sing made perfect sense. So, yes, feel free to blame Joss (we’re on a first-name basis) for Glee…cause I’m pretty sure it started with Singing Buffy.

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It should be noted that friends do not ask to borrow my iPod during parties. And my iPod typically will not win the vote when deciding what to listen to in the car. Oh well. My musical tastes are clearly just too evolved for the main stream.

I Wish My Life Was a “Choose Your Own Adventure” Book. Oh. Wait…

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I loved those books as a kid. I had the “Deadwood City” one and “The Sinister Studios of KESP-TV” one. I went through them all. I didn’t have one adventure – I had every adventure.

As adults, we remember loving them, but we don’t realize we’re still living them. Because that’s what life is, right? A “Choose Your Own Adventure” story. What’s missing? The “do-over” when your questionable decision leads you to that inevitable line telling you “you’ve died.”

I’ve chosen wisely and we all know I’ve chosen poorly…a lot. But, given that I can’t flip to the beginning of the book and fix my wrong turns, I guess even the poor choices say something. Because many wrong turns simply mean that you were willing to risk losing for the chance at winning. Or it means that you’re stupid. In my case? Probably some of both. But, bravery or stupidity, I do love turning the page every day.

I Married Clark Kent.

My Clark Kent

Which, based on my unhealthy Superman infatuation, means – I win.

So, Steve saw this photo and said, “Babe…you’re kind of overdoing this whole ‘me being a saint’ thing on your blog.” I said, “whoa, buddy, I never said you were a saint. Where are these delusions of grandeur coming from?” He shook his head at me and walked away.

Moving on. So what does it mean? It means I married the mild-mannered, slightly geeky (yet really hot) guy…who is actually a super hero (if being a super hero involves putting up with 17 years of my bullshit without giving in to the urge to smother me with a pillow). Our 17-year anniversary was yesterday and I went to Tahoe for a bachelorette party. Steve was un-phased. Super hero.  He’s watched all five hours of the Pride and Prejudice mini-series (which is fantastic) with me. More than once. Super hero. He’s even dressing up for Comic Con with me in San Diego this year. (Yes, he’s a geek and totally wants to go to Comic Con…but dressing up with me? That definitely falls into the humoring my shenanigans category.)

And need proof on the ‘slightly geeky’ thing? Yesterday, on Facebook, he posted that after 17 years, I’m “still the droid he was looking for.” Which is nerd gold, in my opinion.   Image

Anyway, this is my post to say “Happy Anniversary” and “thanks for not whining about me ditching you on our anniversary.” And, seriously, get over yourself. Just because I compare you to Superman doesn’t mean you should get an over-inflated sense of self-importance.

 

Drinking With Mormons.

Well, not “with” them, really.

So, I’m on a family vacation. With the whole damn family (she said, lovingly). Today is my parents’ 50th Wedding Anniversary so we loaded up the vehicles and drove from California to Canada…for fun and celebration. My brother and his wife (the “Mormons” above-referenced) are on this trip as well.

Steve and I drink a lot of wine anyway, but on vacation…yes, it’s daily. And we found some delightful local brews, as well. My brother and his wife and I are all very close (and brutally sarcastic and passive-aggressively judgmental). Long story short, when I’m evaluating whether or not beer is acceptable at 9:30 in the morning, I can see my brother’s eyes glaze over (in the aforementioned passive-aggressive judgment). So, out of respect for the Mormons, I waited until 11 am to drink my (delicious) 650 ml beer. Don’t tell me I’m not a team player.

So this has all been an important lesson in “perspective.” If, on vacation, you drink every day, but never get stupid-drunk, no problem. If you drink every day *with Mormon bystanders*, you might be an alcoholic. Hm. Well, I’m still convinced my problem is my audience and not my intake. Did I mention the beer was delicious? (#MoonUnderWaterBrewery)

A Message From the Tagline Fairy.

Like the Tooth Fairy, but, instead, I’m creeping into your house whilst you sleep and stealing your taglines.

Half the time I click “Follow” just from reading the name of your blog or your tagline. (Says the girl with a blog named “Erin Lyon.” It’s genius! Copyright that shit!) But hopefully my tagline is mildly amusing (which is the phrase that may end up carved into my tombstone). Anyway – here’s my nickel’s worth of free advice: hook them with your name or your tagline. And, if at all possible, be as clever as these people.

The Yam: Eerily similar. Legally distinct.

They are a self-proclaimed rip-off of The Onion. As a lawyer, that made me laugh out loud. And then die a little inside when I gave it a moment of serious legal analysis.

Karen Carpenter Died For Your Sins: I guess I can always go through life sideways.

It was the name of the blog itself that got me on this one. Honestly. Who can find a blog called “Karen Carpenter Died For Your Sins” and not follow? Not this girl.

CupCaketheGreat: Non stick my ass.

Non stick my ass? I didn’t care what she had to say beyond that…I was in.

The Bloggess: Like Mother Teresa, Only Better.

And so began my love affair with Jenny Lawson.

Single Mama’s Guide to CTFD: Lessons in Learning to Let Go.

Hm, not sure you love it? CTFD stands for “calm the fuck down.” How ’bout now? That’s what I thought. Cause once I figured out her mystery acronym stood for calm the fuck down, I nearly sprained my finger hitting the ‘follow’ button. You know my sneaky infatuation with profanity.

Truth Shall Set You Free So Don’t Be a Crybaby: A dash of wit, A sprinkle of snark, A pinch of sarcastic humor all baked in at 450 degrees!

Sarcasm and cooking instructions?

Full-Frontal Nerdity: Adventures in Love and Storytelling.

Full-frontal nerdity. Digest that a moment. Cause it’s awesome. As is her profile pic which lives up to the name.

There are so many more, but I don’t remember all the blogs now that won a hard-earned chuckle from me (“hard-earned” my ass – I laugh at everything). Now, go forth and be funny, my friends.

It Puts the Lotion On Its Skin Or Else It Gets the Hose Again.

Sucker. This post has nothing to do with The Silence of the Lambs. (Well, beyond the fact that that fantastic line popped into my head yesterday and the only way to purge it was apparently to use it for the title of a post.)

I read a lot of blogs. WordPress has replaced Facebook for me as my no. 1 time-sucker. I have this to report back: a lot of people a) apologize for not having posted in a while, and b) say not to worry that they’ll be away…because they promise to post while away.

This is a mystery to me. I feel more inclined to apologize when I do post. And I am going on vacation next week, and I probably will post while away…and I’m sorry for that as well.

Herein lies the mystery. It would never occur to me that anyone, anywhere would actually notice my absence. Here. Not at home (I’d like to think that if I didn’t show up at home for four or five days, my husband would get curious). But here? I write nothing of importance and I’m not even consistently funny. Spoiler alert: neither are you. (Except perhaps the handful of bloggers I listed here.) But, what do I know. Perhaps you do get love-letters from your followers pleading with you to grace them with your literary spoils. Maybe you do get chirped at from the baby birds wanting to be fed. Implausible, but okay.

Most of the time I feel a little whorish posting my links on Facebook in a shameless shameful attempt to get more people to read my crap. And I’m grateful when people give it the time of day. I never feel apologetic for not bombarding you with even more mediocre shit.

There is no actual reason for this post other than the fact that by the time I scanned across the third blogger within an hour with this mysterious sense of self-importance, my huge green rage monster emerged and wanted to write about it. Sometimes, if it wasn’t for being a bitch, I’d have no personality at all.